That last entry took on a little bit of a solemn note. In this one I’m going to try to shift things back towards the superficial. Here goes…
I’ve discovered that I’m physically incapable of putting in eyedrops without vasoconstricting (yeah, it’s a noun) the entire front of my shirt. Sure, it seems easy to you. But think about it. You are pouring topical drugs INTO your eyeball. For those of us who didn’t get contacts at age six or spend their college years inside of a bong this is not a natural activity. This is me attempting to put in drops: I take a deep breath. I peer up into the bathroom ceiling. I awkwardly try to hold open my suddenly spastic eyelid with my free hand. I position the Visine in what appears to me to be the center of my eye. I slowly squeeze the bottle until a drop appears… hangs… haaangs…. haaaaannnggs… Then I flinch like a little girl and hose down my clothes with topical eye lubricant. I rinse… I repeat. It’s a phenomenon without explanation. I’m not uncoordinated. I can ride a bike. I can juggle. I can yo-yo like a bastard. And yet somehow trying to bull’s-eye my cornea from an inch away is completely beyond me.
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